Scepticism * Humanism * Escapism

Star Trek: The Next Generation aired from 1987 to 1994. 7 seasons. 176 episodes. This summer holidays I binge-watched the whole lot.

ST:TNG remains one of the best science fiction tv shows ever created, but it’s a product of its time. Progressive as it may have been 30 years ago, many episodes are cringe-worthy and occasionally characters like La Forge and Riker are downright creepy. Nevertheless, it’s a great show (particularly the 5th season) and I love it.

Alice fell for him in the graveyard silence when the lights had faded and the songs were sung, and that was no small thing.

She rationed her affections. Men had to wear her down to get a taste. That’s just how it had always worked; attraction came only with familiarity. And yet, there she stood in the audience, enchanted by a musician whom she had never met.

But why not this man whose voice seduced and words inspired? He was of growing renown, a friend to women (if his lyrics were to be believed) and a generous gift for their eyes no less. Is it any wonder?

I was on the pull that night, and I did warm a bloke’s sheets by day’s end, but it was also the evening I met him.

He is out of place, I thought. He didn’t fit the room.

The pub was crowded with Canary Wharf city-boys — and he was one of the clique too — but unlike his colleagues, his suit fit. But it wasn’t just his tailoring that set him apart, or his stature and easy charisma for that matter.

No, there was something… Arg! It’s hard to articulate.

He wasn’t the centre of attention in his group, but his friends worked for his approval — most likely without even realising it. He wielded a subtle power. And it was no accident, I knew. He was in complete control.

Everything he did was calculated and precise: how he spoke, what he said, how he moved, the way he surveyed the room…

Of course, he knew I was studying him. Those eyes (God, I’m getting wet just thinking about them), those eyes didn’t miss a thing.

I grab your ass. My nails dig into your skin. Then, I slap your butt cheek. I slap you again and again. A satisfying red glow starts to form.

Enthusiastic, you overextend, and my dick slips out, slapping me on my tummy. I push it up again with my thumb and it slips back into your cunt. You resume your fucking. Every time you thrust down, I thrust up and bury my cock in you.

Now you slow down. You’re enjoying being in control of your pleasure. You move more purposefully, trying small variations in position, experimenting with what feels good.

I wet my thumb with my mouth and massage your asshole. I circle lightly, letting your hole get used to the feel of me. Next, I put my thumb over your anus, pushing with increasing pressure, but making sure not to enter you yet. I feel your ass relax.

We’re not in the right position for anal play. You dismount and get on all fours. I push you down into the bed so that your head rests on the pillow while your ass props up.

My other hand is clutching your ass, but now I move it to your front. I run it over your crotch. I appreciate the feel of you. I reach up under your shirt, touching skin, over your belly.

I cup your breast. You’re still wearing a bra. I circle and flick my thumb over your nipple and I feel it respond.

I kiss you on the mouth now while I really start to play with your tits.

I have to taste them now. I can’t wait.

I pull your shirt over your head, undo your bra, and rip it off.

Your tits are amazing. I cup both and put one in my mouth.

I run my tongue hard over your nipple. Then, I suck for all I’m worth.

While I’m sucking one, I’m pinching the other.

I feel your hand on my crotch. You’re running your fingers and palm up and down my already hard cock. You start to pull down my zipper.

Not so fast, I think. I give your nipple a light bite, catching you a little of guard. I take advantage and take your wrists in my hands while I push you firmly against the wall, arms up like you’re under arrest.

My body pushes against yours. I look into your bright eyes. I hear your fast breath. I feel your nipples through my shirt. Then I close my eyes and kiss you, eager and hard.

You kiss back. You bite my lip. I let go of your left wrist and hold your neck, fingers digging in below and behind your ear, thumb under your chin. We keep kissing. I love the moan that rumbles in your throat.

I kneel before you. Your jeans are button-up and I undo them all in one forceful twist to expose your panties.

Normally, I’d first remove your jeans and leave your knickers on. But I’m too eager now. I reach into the top of your panties, grab it with a fistful of denim, and yank it down. But I don’t take it off completely. I spread your legs as far as the jeans allow.

I look up at your beautiful pussy, and give it a curtesy kiss and a quick lick. I stand up slowly, kissing you all the way up. And now my hand is over your cunt. I rub my middle and index fingers up over your vulva. You’re wet. I love the feel of it. You moan softly and I kiss you again. Gently now. I caress your breast with my free hand. Our passion builds. I circle over your pussy, a little harder, a little faster.

It’s my turn now. I pull away from you. I pull my zip down, and you know what to do. You get on your knees and you pull out my cock. Your hands feel so good. But your wet, warm mouth feels better.

While you suck my dick, I take off my shirt. When I’m done, I hold the back of your head with both my hands, moving with your motion.

And then you stop the movement and just suck on my head, occasionally swirling your tongue around it. Your hand is around the base of my shaft. You’re jerking me. It’s so intense my knees feel weak. You give it a last suck and then my dick is out. You look up at me with big eyes. You’re still stroking me, all the way up and down my now very wet cock.

You help me out of my trousers. I’m naked now, except for my socks. I pick you up and carry you to bed, then pull your jeans off. I flip you on your tummy. I split your legs so that I can see the labia-line of your cunt. I run my hand over your inner thigh, and then brush against your wetness.

I bury my face in your lovely bum, and kiss the fold where it meets your upper leg. With my hand I lightly scratch your back.

I squirt a generous portion of lube on my hand. With my palm up, I slip my index finger into you. Soon, my middle finger goes in too. I push my hand up, stretching your cunt, and then I gently massage your vagina walls with a come-to-me motion. I see your back arch in response.

I flip my hand, palm down. With the same motion, I massage and stimulate the soft ridges of your g-spot. After a while, I reach in deeper, in search of the a-spot. I keep massaging. I love finger fucking you.

But I’d also like to taste you. I flip you around on your back. Your pussy is swollen, engorged. I pinch the whole of it between my fingers, slowly pulling it up, slowly twisting it between my fingers. Next, I run my fingers between the folds of your outer and inner labia. With one hand, I stretch open your lips, with the other hand I stroke your clitoral shaft, up and down. I can’t wait any longer. I have to lick you.

And so, I do. I lick around your clitoris until your hips start moving. And then my tongue lightly caresses your little button. I’m shaking my head sideways now, flicking over your clit, left and right. I enter you with my fingers again, back to work on the g-spot. I cease licking. Instead I cup my mouth over your clitoris and then I suck gently, like I’m sucking the juice out of a fruit. You taste wonderful.

I can make you come like this. You’re very close, but I want to fuck you.

I slip on a condom.

I move up to your breasts and pay them a little lip service.

Now, I’m directly over you, both your legs on either side of me. Both my hands are planted under your arms. I’m kissing you again. You’re very passionate. You want to be fucked. Badly.

You reach down and guide my dick. I enter your tight pussy and my body lights up. “Fuck me,” you say. And I oblige. This is not making love. This is fucking. Your legs are up and I thrust with conviction. But not hard enough. I sit up. Your legs on my chest, I grab your thighs and fuck you deep and hard. You reach back with your arms pushing against the headboard. Your moans are enthusiastic and urgent.

Again, I can make you come, but not yet. I pull out. I flip you around again and pull you to the side of the bed. I get off, standing. You’re on all fours on the bed. “Spread your legs,” I say. “More… Lower… Yes.” I shove my cock in your pussy again. You start fucking me immediately. Moving back and forth with your body. I give you a few playful slaps, and then I grab your ass. I’m helping you move now. We’re fucking a bit harder. And harder. And harder. I’m moving too now, in sync with you. You reach down and rub your clit furiously.

I feel my groin tingling. Jesus, I’m close. But so are you. In fact, you’re very close. Your sounds of ecstasy does something to me. Suddenly, I’m so much closer to exploding. It feels good to be able to satisfy a woman. I feel like a fucking god.

And there, you come. I can feel it. I can see it. I can hear it. And that does it for me. I come too. Jesus. Fuck. It’s almost painful. It’s hard to stay standing. We remain like that for a while. I’m still in you. And I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Get some tea, guys. Find a comfortable place to sit. Settle in. This letter is serious business, and a couch and a cuppa tends to help when you’re thinking about important matters.

Ready?

Let’s get going.

This letter is about happiness. Yes, that’s serious business! It’s also about living well — just being a good person, you know? — because a good life is more likely to be a happy one.

Life is hard, man. No-one escapes heartache. No-one is happy all the time. No-one has full control over the events that shape them. But happiness is attainable, despite life. Look at your mother and I. We’re happy. And we want that for you.

The principal is simple: find the things that make you happy and pursue them. But you’d be surprised at how tough the finding can be and how much work the pursuing can take. To complicate matters further, the things that make you happy can, and likely will, change over time. Some things you may choose to trade — reluctantly, at times — for the sake of gaining better ones, and others you will desire — certain in the knowledge that it will increase your happiness — but you’ll feel too intimidated or lazy to hunt them down.

Below are nuggets of wisdom. They are idealistic for sure. Failing to live by these “standards” — as we do — doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Does that make sense? Also, bear in mind that these maxims are our wisdom, gained from our experiences, which means, of course, that it may be folly for you. Still, we think this collection is a decent foundation to build upon, a useful starting point.

We aimed for brevity, so if anything is unclear, or if you’d like to know why we said certain things and not others, we encourage you, as always, to chat with us.